


Epilogue-Prologue

by OuttaTheJam



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Chorus (Red vs. Blue), Fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Season/Series 17, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fic Exchange, appreciate Donut or perish, mostly - Freeform, probably not conclusive, very rushed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22721542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OuttaTheJam/pseuds/OuttaTheJam
Summary: Our past defines us now, but it doesn't define our story. The Ending is what makes it what it is, isn't it?Or:Wash's multiple decisions on that it doesn't matter right now lead him to the place that was chosen precisely to not let anyone like him come across it.
Relationships: The Meta | Agent Maine/Agent Washington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Epilogue-Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luigifan11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luigifan11/gifts).



> As a gift to luigifan11 for the Valentine's rvbgiftexchange on tumblr.  
> Have fun with my attempt at stuffing fluffy romance and character analysis/development in a 2.5k fic in the shortest amount of time.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!

„No Carolina, I got this…," he mumbled even though Carolina was nowhere around to hear it. Which was a good thing, because Wash really didn't got this. He was lost and had no memory of how he got where he was.  
Chorus was big and if one just wandered on, it was easy to not come across anyone, even now that the war had ended.  
Life spread out more, but while it didn't focus solely on military bases, it did focus on towns and cities to be rebuilt.

And amidst it all were Washington, Carolina, and the rest of the Reds and Blues. Trying to recover from… whatever the hell time travelling does to you. Let's just say that free time and safety aren't always enough to relax. Everyone was tense. And no one would tell him anything!  
Sure, he had brain damage and episodes of complete memory loss, but that didn't mean he needed to be wrapped in cotton and handled like an uncooked egg! He wanted to be there for his friends too but like this…

He felt like they were drifting apart again.  
Shut out. Again…

Wash shook his head, this wasn't going to get him anywhere. And he probably should get somewhere, namely back from where he came from. Yes, he should, but then again… It wasn't so bad here.  
He was at the bottom of a cliff inside a forest. It was too dense to make out any kind of path except animal trails. As far as he was aware, none of them dangerous. It really wasn't so bad.  
He found a rock by the cliff's wall and sat down, trying not to make any noise as he took off his helmet. The air tasted sweet, like fresh water. So different from the modern cities and spaceships and battlefields. Sometimes he forgot how nature was there before humans even considered space. At some point, Chorus was nothing but nature. What must it have been like, living with nature, side by side? The mental image of himself living in a wooden cottage, drying jerky and raising chickens, like some mountain man, made him chuckle. How could anyone go back to such a lifestyle? It was hard enough for regular soldiers to live as average citizens once retired.

Still, it was amusing, despite also being kind of sad, and it also was something to do when his head started to feel heavy. How long had he been out again? Oh right, he had a blackout at some point. He'd eventually find his way back. He couldn't have gone that far. The sunlight was warm and golden on his skin where it broke through leaves, and he allowed himself to let go of thoughts. Just for a moment.  
It didn't matter how his condition was. Not where he was. Not how the others worried about him or how they treated him. Not how he was concerned for them in turn. Not here, not now.  
Blinking into the gentle rays, he didn't even notice his lids closing and the light disappearing.

Or maybe he just didn't remember.

Light weight on his head stirred Wash awake. It took him a moment to realise that, only really doing so when the warmth faded. He missed it immediately, whining before he even opened his eyes. His sight was blurry with sleep and confusion, and the scenery around him was dark. Night had fallen.  
A hulking figure hovered close to him, squinting into the twilight he thought it looked human. A big human, not wearing any armour like most people on Chorus still did. Especially outside towns and bases.

Wash found it hard to collect his thoughts and even harder to form words. With both sleepiness and jumbled brain weighing on his tongue, his first attempt at speaking was incoherent. All in all, it was a surprise the person didn't decide he was a crazy runaway and just left him there.

Instead, they reached out to him, slowly. As if cautious not to startle him. The broad hand stabilising him at his shoulder as he slowly came to. Or as much as he could through the fog in his head.  
A thought cut through it, clear and sharp, like a shooting star. Out of deep space.

"Maine..?"

He knew this couldn't be true, he couldn't even really see their face, much less comprehend it.

But it FELT like Maine.  
He KNEW Maine when he saw him!

The person flinched back, the hand from his shoulder shooting to their face. Confused about their features and how he saw them, recognised them as this person he lost too harshly, too often, and still missed way too much.

Caught up in a rush of emotions, impossible to discern from each other, his hand followed the one of who he was sure could only be Maine. Rising to their face, closing the gap of mere inches-  
His helmet slipped and fell, the sound cracking through his ears. What was he doing?

This… wasn't Maine. Couldn't be. Maine was.. dead.

And Wash's head was filled with heavy fog. Clouds, pouring rain into his heart. He couldn't think straight, he was brain-damaged, and now he thought a stranger his long lost friend?

The wave of emotions crashed in the surf, leaving him cold. Frozen. Constricted.

Like the Freezer.

It was when he could barely breathe past the sudden pain in his chest and pulled back his hand, that the cloud that shrouded the brightest moon finally passed it by.

\-----------

"What even IS all this?!"  
Tucker's grin made room for confusion before he caught on. "Oh right, you weren't there when they told us. It's a festival! The Festival of Procreation!" Wash felt his stomach's urge to cringe at the name. He really hoped it didn't imply what he thought it did.

"We established the say you activated the temple as a yearly festival," Grey explained cheerily as ever. "As a token to peace, love, and unity! Unfortunately, we're only celebrating it, we're not using the temple again. That would be very interesting."

Oh thank god.

"The events of that day aren't very peaceful in my memory."

The doctor waved off his concern.

"Without the temple, the people are much more tempered, and so is the festival. And its symbolism."

"Yeah, man." Tucker kept nodding along to Grey. "It's like Valentine's Day, just on their calendar."

Caroline huffed beside him, the first sound she had made thus far. "It's much more public than any Valentine's Day I ever saw."

"Oh yeah?" Tucker made himself sound much cockier than he probably should. "And how many would that have been?" She didn't react to his obvious jab with more than a glare. Wash knew what she meant, though. Earth's calendar had always been a bit off and they had always been busy and serious and trained as super-soldiers, but…

Somehow such holidays had found their way into the ranks of Project Freelancer. Valentine's specifically he'd give Florida the credit for.

And Carolina was right, it always had been a quiet, private celebration. If you even celebrated it. He remembered evenings when he'd sit with North and York, trying to help latter think of a way to approach Carolina with these kinds of things. He thinks York tried a few times, but either the message got lost, or she didn't care.

He also remembered – whenever the three of them parted – he would consider all the ideas and options they had raised and ultimately use them for his own. In small, quiet gestures.

Wash knew he had appreciated them, even if the message didn't always pass through clearly. And Wash knew he struggled to return them at times, most of the times. Yet his message was always, always crystal clear. Maine had been a man of few words from day one, but the affection he had for his friends needed no expression. Wash always knew.

…

He wondered if what he saw out in the forest had really just been his imagination.

When he was found near the base just outside the capital, his memories of how he got there were muddled and unclear. He knew he was lead back there, but couldn't remember parts in between that must have taken hours. And no one trusted him with what he told about the parts he could remember.

He didn't even quite trust himself.

Everyone insisted Maine died. And his own eyes and memories weren't reliable anymore. But someone had been there. He was sure of that. If someone lived in the woods on their own, unnoticed by an entire colony throughout civil war, but chose to help him and then leave again…

That was peculiar on its own.

He couldn't ignore the faint sliver of foolish hope hen he thought that he'd like to thank them and find out more about the hermit.

"Wash?"

Carolina's careful touch to his shoulder made him jump. The memory of the hulking figure twisting his stomach. She pulled back again.

"Sorry, you seemed spaced out." He started hating the look of concern and pity and anger at themselves that he saw on his friends' faces whenever he displayed the smallest sign of discomfort. They blamed themselves and tried so hard to go back to how it was. Ignoring that they couldn't.

Everyone act natural! Except for Wash, because he's the victim!

He swallowed down the anger and with it the urge to brush past Carolina and leave into the forest. Instead, he forced out a wry smile.

"I'm just tired. You know how hard sleep can come." He felt worse for how she crossed her arms, withdrawing into herself.  
Shutting him out.

"I understand. We wondered if you wanted to come to the festival with, but you can stay home too and rest if you're tired."

"No, I'd like that." He didn't, not really. But maybe they would treat him more like a friend and less than a cripple if he showed them that he was alright.

"I'd like that very much."

Wash didn't like this amount of people.

Not that he had a problem with it, at least that's what he assured Carolina and Donut of. It was just very loud. That's all. And the group might or might not have been split up, maybe or maybe not intentionally.

Either way, he was currently tagging along behind Simmons and Grif, bickering about something like they usually did. Donut stopped every so often to look at stalls put up at the sides, illuminated by lights in pink and red and adorned by flowers and paper hearts and cupid bows. Tucker was right, it was basically Valentine's Day. Though some stalls reminded people of the war and it's ending, the unity of the people, and to practice safe sex.

He even spotted someone handing out flyers about how to go about alimony. Poor Tucker.

"Hey Wash, look at this." He turned towards the pin-- lightish red soldier and peered over his shoulder at the stall. Many different gifts were laid out, mostly chocolates and stuffed animals, all to give to your sweetheart. Donut was holding a teddy, a serious face yet still with a blush stitched onto it. It, in turn, held a heart with the words >Maybe you ARE my favourite bear!<

It didn't surprise him that Donut would pick out such a thing out of all. "It's very adorable," he assured him and preferred to look at the other objects. Of them all, Wash thought Donut was the one who truly managed to go back to his original self. He just failed to see further into his personality before. He was also the one he believed to trust him when he said he was okay. Or when he truly was, at least.  
His gaze caught on the table and he paused. Donut must have noticed because he paused too.

"You know Wash," he started and he noticed once again that they all were people. Three-dimensional and real, with stories of the past and of their growth. "Some things, we can only trust ourselves to know. And only we can make those decisions with that knowledge."

He looked up to see a wink shot at him, then Donut handed the woman behind the stall more money than probably necessary.

"I'll catch up with the two, see you later!" And with the teddy in his arms and humming a song, he disappeared among the crowd.

And Wash made a decision.

To stick to a thought, to a devotion made so suddenly, is hard when your mind is racing a thousand miles per second. But at this speed, no fog could stick. Challenging the speed of his thoughts with his own as he left the city, he didn't give doubt a chance to worm its way into his heart.

The potted plant from that stall clutched tightly against his chest like a shield.

Look, he doesn't know HOW he found his way to that cliff again, doesn't know HOW he made it in so little time. It didn't matter to him. Once again, none of that mattered.  
Because eventually, he found that track, that trail that wasn't made by animals. The footprints too big to be his own.

He laughed out loud when he followed it to its origin, his throat sore from breathing too hard for too long. His legs nearly gave out when he stumbled over the forest ground towards the wooden cottage tucked away against the cliffside.

He didn't care that his hair stuck to his brows and sweat dripped into his eyes. Not when he firmly knocked against the door, blood pumping adrenaline and ecstasy through his veins.  
The sunrise's light was warm and gentle as it illuminated Maine's utterly confused face. The concern that contorted it only shortly after did little to quell Wash's determination. He would learn concern was misplaced.

"I know we can't start over," he gasped out hoarsely, the words falling from his head making room for memories to fall into their place. "I don't even want to! Because… Because this past is ours and I just want to build upon that. That we're both here right now is reason enough to try, isn't it?"

He held out the pot to Maine, watching him hesitantly take it. His actions as gingerly as the look that filled his eyes. Their fingers brushed against each other and remained there.

They all weren't healed yet. They still had so much more to grow, but…

"This… This Happy Ending… We can make that. We just have to start."

He couldn't put into words how it felt to be rejoined in the arms of who he loved most, so familiar, yet so new after such a long time.

Maybe like the white rose that bloomed from the pot in the face of the rising sun.

**Author's Note:**

> White Roses are often considered bridal roses as they represent young love and eternal loyalty.  
> Often mean "I'm worthy of you."
> 
> Rushed and inconclusive? Mayhaps.  
> Sweet and pure? I sure hope so.  
> I hope all of you have/had a wonderful Valentine's Day! With or without romance. Raid the stores for discounted chocolate tomorrow.


End file.
